Today's poems [7.16.20]
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Bob, the zookeeper from Bath,
was known to have trained a giraffe,
to sit on its knees
and stay still with ease
while poked with his very long staff
Sent by Dan
Netting a catch
I met her on the Internet,
she said her name was Kiki,
I spoke to her one Saturday,
it soon became twice weekly.
I liked her face, her pointed chin,
the way she touched her hair,
I loved her smile and glinting eyes,
and all beyond in there
I longed to meet her desperately,
but only could I dream,
of seeing her in the flesh
and not just on the screen
I booked my flight
and flew for hours,
I was feeling so elated
but finally, when we met
her face looked devastated
Why was this? I could not think.
Of course, I should have told her
I'm really only 4 feet tall,
and my head's a lot more balder.
It always seemed too good for real,
the honeymoon was over,
I reluctantly went home again,
and wept as I flew over
and soon enough , I did groan,
the relationship had ended
she broke my heart
the wretched bitch,
and still it hasn't mended
there is a happy ending though,
for after I lost Kiki,
I fell in love with Annabel
who doesn't find me geeky
Anna is a lovely sight,
she makes me warm inside
I have to blow her up, you see
cause she's my latex bride
Sent by Dan
There was a young man from Bengal,
Who had an hexagonal ball,
The cube of it's weight,
Was his penis times eight,
Which in fact is Pi times fuck all!
Sent by Doug
Roses are reddish,
Violets are blueish,
If it wasn't for Christmas,
We'd all be Jewish.
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, except Papa's mouse.
The computer was humming, the icons were hopping,
As Papa did last-minute Internet shopping.
The stockings were hung by the modem with care
In hope that St. Nicholas would bring new software.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of computer games danced in their heads.
PageMaker for Billy, and Quicken for Dan,
And Carmen Sandiego for Pamela Ann.
The letters to Santa had been sent out by Mom,
To email@example.com -
Which has now been re-routed to Washington State
Because Santa's workshop has been bought by Bill Gates.
All the elves and reindeer have had to skedaddle
To flashy new quarters in suburban Seattle.
After centuries of a life that was simple and spare,
St. Nicholas is suddenly a new billionaire,
With a shiny red Porsche in the place of his sleigh,
And a house on Lake Washington that's just down the way
From where Bill has his mansion. The old fellow preens
In black Gucci boots and red Calvin Klein jeans.
The elves have stock options and desks with a view,
Where they write computer code for Johnny and Sue.
No more dolls or tin soldiers or little toy drums
Will be under the tree, only compact disk ROMS
With the Microsoft label. So spin up your drive,
From now on Christmas runs only on Win95.
More rapid than eagles the competitors came,
And Bill whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
"Now, ADOBE! now, CLARIS! now, INTUIT! too,
Now, APPLE! and NETSCAPE! you are all of you through,
It is Microsoft's SANTA that the kids can't resist,
It's the ultimate software with a traditional twist -
Recommended by no less than the jolly old elf,
And on the package, a picture of Santa himself.
Get 'em young, keep 'em long, is Microsoft's scheme,
And a merger with Santa is a marketer's dream.
To the top of the NASDAQ! to the top of the Dow!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away - wow!"
And Mama in her 'kerchief and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
The whir and the hum of our satellite platter,
As it turned toward that new Christmas star in the sky,
The SANTALITE owned by the Microsoft guy.
As I sprang from my bed and was turning around,
My computer turned on with a Jingle-Bells sound.
And there on the screen was a smiling Bill Gates
Next to jolly old Santa, two arm-in-arm mates.
And I heard them exclaim in voice so bright,
Have a MICROSOFT CHRISTMAS, and TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.
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